


The Green of the Enemy

by nsowlwrites97



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is a good strategizer, Arthur is smart, BAMF Arthur, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Battle, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, Post-Magic Reveal, Protective Arthur, Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), as usual Merlin's too powerful for his own good, nothing too graphic or serious though, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21550450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsowlwrites97/pseuds/nsowlwrites97
Summary: When Camelot goes up against a powerful foe, it will take all of Merlin's strength and all of Arthur's instincts to stop them.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 416





	The Green of the Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Something I've been playing around with for a while. Enjoy!

His feet pounded on the ground as he ran. His chest heaved, his legs burned, and tears streamed from his eyes. He stumbled over a body but picked himself back up again, kept running. This was some sort of nightmare. It had to be.

Except that it wasn’t. Arthur felt it in every desperate gasp of his lungs, in every searing twist of his knee, in the intensity of the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

There was only one last shred of hope to hold on to. He had to find Merlin.

Arthur stumbled on, one leg in front of the other. Stopping was impossible. His legs had a mind of their own, and Arthur was happy to let them run, because he knew that if he forced himself to stop he would fall and he would not get back up again.

Finally, through the smoke and the mist, a figure, standing. Arthur slowed, trying to make out whether they were friend or foe. Most of the bodies on the ground were Camelot’s. The opposing army had been ten times smaller, and ten times deadlier for it.

The figure turned towards him and dropped to one knee. Arthur stumbled to a stop ten yards away, fighting to remain upright. The green of the enemy showed through the man’s armor.

Terror shot through Arthur, quick and debilitating. No longer dampened by the disbelief of what was happening, of what these soldiers could do, when he had first charged into battle.

But the green knight didn’t attack. Instead, he pointed, off to his right, a ring on his finger glinting slightly. Arthur’s eyes darted to where he was pointing. Nothing but smoke and mist, and more bodies.

“Find what you seek, king,” the green knight said, his voice louder than it had any right to be across the distance between them. “Your time is dwindling.”

“You know what I seek?” Arthur asked, ignoring the second part of the knight’s statement. He was surprised when his voice didn’t shake.

The knight raised his head then, but his face was hidden by his helmet. With a chill, Arthur realized he hadn’t seen any of these knights with their helmets knocked off. They were just too powerful.

“Your savior, of course,” the knight replied, a jeer in his voice. He stood, and Arthur stumbled back. He was weaponless, and hurt, and he knew the knight could have him dead in a heartbeat. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at one another. But then the knight only pointed again before turning and walking away in the opposite direction.

Arthur watched him go until the fog had swallowed him up, and everything was silent once more. The wind sent a sudden chill through him, and he shuddered. He peered into the mist, in the direction the knight had pointed. It was impossible to know what lay in wait for him there. His mind screamed at him not to listen, to turn back, to find what survivors he could, rebuild what could be rebuilt.

But his “savior” could only be one person. Even if it was a trap, he had to find him.

Arthur picked up a sword from a nearby body, not looking at the face as he did so. And then he walked into the mist.

Nothing appeared different, at first. More bodies, mostly Camelot red, that seemed to go on forever. Arthur made his way forward, constantly looking behind him, sure he was about to be ambushed by a score of the green knights.

But no one appeared. No one, that was, until he saw something glowing through the mist.

Arthur squinted. A bright, golden light, but small, very concentrated. He took several more steps forward, and realized the light seemed to be hovering above something sticking out of the ground. No, not something. Someone.

The golden light split into two, and the someone became a recognizable figure, and the figure became Merlin.

“Merlin!” Arthur croaked, and stumbled forward, nearly tripping over a fallen soldier’s arm. “Merlin!”

Merlin didn’t answer. Arthur made his way forward, through the maze of arms and legs, until finally he was standing directly in front of his friend. But Merlin didn’t seem to be seeing him.

Arthur took his shoulder and shook him slightly. He was stiff as a board, eyes glowing, hands at his sides with his palms turned outward, and eerily still, frozen. “Merlin?” Arthur asked. “Merlin, can you hear me?” Arthur shook him again. An uncomfortable sort of fear crept into Arthur’s stomach. “Merlin? Merlin, please!”

“He cannot hear you.”

Arthur jumped. He turned to face the speaker. The woman wore armor, with green fabric underneath, like her knights. A chain glinted around her neck, disappearing under her tunic. A sigil on her breastplate indicated she was a commander, not a soldier.

“Are you going to kill us?” Arthur asked, stepping in front of Merlin and raising his sword.

“I can do nothing of the sort, so long as he maintains his spell,” the woman replied, gesturing at Merlin.

“What spell?”

“The spell that is binding all my soldiers. Keeping us from using our powers. From picking up weapons, even.”

Arthur glanced back at Merlin. He didn’t think he had ever seen Merlin’s eyes glow so brightly, and for so long.

“That’s a powerful friend you have there, young king,” the woman continued. “But even he will tire eventually. No sorcerer can sustain such power for long.”

Arthur looked away from Merlin, thinking. So this was why the green knight who’d been about to kill him had suddenly released him, and why Arthur had been able to kill the knight instead. It was difficult for Arthur to tell how much time had passed since then, but it must have been at least half an hour. He knew from watching and listening to Merlin over the years that holding a spell of this magnitude for that long was nearly impossible.

Arthur looked back at the woman, who was watching him serenely. “How long would you say I have?” he asked.

The woman shrugged. “Just enough time to pray, I’d wager.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“Why should I lie to you, king? Sooner or later your sorcerer’s hold on us will fail, and then you will die. I care not whether it is five minutes from now or in an hour, only that it happens. And it will.”

Arthur’s mind whirled. Merlin was a warlock, was magic itself, which meant he could draw power directly from the source, as it were. So perhaps he could sustain the spell for longer than the woman predicted. If in that time, Arthur could find whatever survivors remained of his army, and together dispatch the green knights, then the kingdom of Camelot might still go on.

He would have to be fast. He wouldn’t have time to take the woman as prisoner. But he didn’t want to leave Merlin alone with her, either.

“Making plans, are you?” the woman asked. She took several steps forward. Arthur raised his sword in warning. The woman held up her hands, as if to say she meant no harm. “You won’t have time.”

“Who are you?” Arthur asked.

“Someone who believes the world doesn’t need kingdoms to go on. Only people.”

“You killed most of mine,” Arthur pointed out.

“Yours don’t count.” The woman raised her chin and smiled, a twisted, sickly smile. “Yours don’t deserve to live.”

“And yours do?”

“Each and every one of my men have devoted themselves personally to the cause. They would sooner die than betray it or give up on it.”

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t have time for this. If any of his knights or soldiers were still alive, he needed to find them. And quickly. He didn’t believe the woman could not harm Merlin at all; after all, there were plenty of ways to kill a man without a weapon or magic. But she hadn’t yet. The knight who had pointed him this way hadn’t killed him, either. So maybe Merlin had finally gotten it through his thick skull that he needed to protect himself as well as everyone else. Maybe.

“Why did your man point me here?” Arthur asked. He was painfully aware of the seconds ticking by, but until he could think of a way to gather his own men without leaving Merlin in danger, he might as well learn what he was dealing with.

“We thought you should know how your precious kingdom will come to ruin,” the woman said. “Seeing as you won’t be around to see it.”

Arthur’s jaw worked, but he said nothing.

“Emrys here can remake the world, no?” the woman continued. "Particularly if you were to die?”

“Say what you mean,” Arthur demanded, even as a chill ran through him at her words.

“He would lose all reason. Lose all control. He would pull Camelot back into the earth if you were gone. And once Camelot is gone, completely and irrevocably, then were will be no need for kings or castles. The Old Religion will be truly free once more.”

“No. No, Merlin wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t he?”

“Magic-” Arthur stopped himself. Took a deep breath. The seeds of a plan were forming, and the woman wouldn’t waste any more of his time.

“You sought answers, did you not?” the woman asked. She looked past him, at Merlin. “Why we attacked, and how we were stopped. Well, here they are. Here’s your savior. But no matter. This is only a temporary break in the battle.”

Arthur strode forward, as quickly as his limp would allow. “Pick up a sword.”

Confusion flickered over the woman’s face. “What?”

“Pick it up! If you cannot do magic, as you say, then I will not fight you empty-handed.”

The woman smirked. “How honorable of you. I told you, we cannot pick up weapons now, either.”

“Prove it.” When the woman didn’t move, only continued to stare at him, Arthur pressed the tip of his sword against her chest. “Pick. It. Up.”

The woman studied him, gray eyes unreadable. After a moment, she stepped away and went to take a sword from a fallen soldier’s body. The moment her hand touched it, there was the smell of sizzling flesh, and she hissed and took her hand away.

“I did not lie to you, Arthur Pendragon,” the woman said, a slight tremor in her voice, as she cradled her injured hand to her chest.

Arthur weighed his options, speeding through possibilities. Finally he tore a length of fabric off a Camelot cloak that fluttered in the wind and went to the woman.

“I will not kill you. Not yet. But I do need to restrain you.”

The woman smiled slyly. “You think you’ll do what you need to do in time? Very well then, but know that the moment your pet sorcerer over there fails in his spell he will be weak, and I will subdue him. I can count on you to come rescue him, can’t I?” Her smile was deadly sweet, a smile that promised pain and terror. 

“Then I’ll just have to be quick, won’t I?” Arthur motioned for her to sit and put her hands behind her back. He staked a spear into the soil and tied the cloth around its shaft and around her hands, then did the same with her feet and another spear. She winced as her bare skin touched the wood, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to care. It was probably a good thing. He knew it might be smarter to just kill her outright, but he wanted a trial. Perhaps then he could learn more about her motives, and how to avoid another such situation.

After a final look back at Merlin, Arthur picked up his sword and began to run. He knew where he was now, his mind clearer now that he had a plan. Their camp wasn’t far, that was where the survivors would be gathering. He had already wasted too much time, he knew; by now Merlin must have been holding the spell for nearly three-quarters of an hour. By time he got to the camp it would just about reach that mark.

The camp was a desolate sight – largely empty, and the people who staggered through it seemed to be in shock. Arthur looked towards the command tent, and saw to his relief that Leon stood outside it, directing people to getting bandages and water. Arthur limped towards him, his knee screaming at him to rest, but there was no time.

“Sire!” Leon exclaimed when he saw him. “It’s good to see you! We didn’t know…”

“Leon,” Arthur greeted. “We need to act quickly. Gather every man we can spare who is still in good condition.”

Leon frowned. “But, sire, their soldiers….”

“Their soldiers are powerless for the moment, thanks to Merlin. But they won’t be for long, so we need to act fast.” Leon must have heard the urgency in Arthur’s tone, because he nodded and went to find some men to spread the word.

“You should get that knee looked at.”

Arthur turned. Elyan stood behind him, his arm in a sling, a large bandage peeking out from underneath this shirt. A healer hurried past him, telling Arthur to sit and fussing at his knee. Arthur went along with it, but as soon as Leon had gathered enough men, Arthur was leading them out, and he told the man as such.

“It’s good to see you,” he said to Elyan, trying to smile.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain once Leon gets back. We have a chance to take out their army.”

“Something to do with Merlin?” Elyan asked, before looking around. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s – he’s all right.” _I hope._ Assuming the spell was still in effect and the woman hadn’t captured him yet. Had he been wrong to leave her there with him?

Men were starting to gather outside the command tent. It wasn’t many, but as the green knights could not even handle weapons, Arthur hoped it would be enough. He waved off the healer and stood.

“Knights of Camelot!” Arthur began. “I know it appears we have been fighting a losing battle. How can we possibly defeat an army of sorcerers? How could we possibly win, when they force us to turn our weapons on ourselves?” There was a shuffling in the crowd. No words Arthur could say would do justice to the helplessness and terror of watching your own brothers fall purposely on their own swords. “I know all hope seems lost,” Arthur pressed on. “But we have a chance to turn the tide. Merlin has temporarily restrained their abilities. They cannot even take up weapons. I’ve seen proof of it.” A murmur of understanding swept through the men. Arthur himself had been struggling against his own sword when suddenly the pressure had lifted, and he was sure many of the soldiers here were alive now for the same reason.

“I do not know how much longer Merlin will be able to maintain the spell. It has been quite some time already. We need to act quickly. It does not seem honorable, I know, to slay men who cannot defend themselves, but if we do not Camelot will fall.”

“At least we’re not turning their own bodies against them!” someone yelled.

“Hear, hear!” someone else answered, and a cheer went up in the crowd.

Arthur swallowed thickly. He didn’t like the idea of killing the soldiers this way, but their leader had told him that each and every one would rather die than give up on the cause. If they were left alive, there would be no end to this.

“Grab a weapon!” Arthur yelled. “For the love of Camelot!”

“For the love of Camelot!” came the answering cry, and they were off, marching across the battlefield in search of the enemy camp. They skirted the outer edge of the field, to avoid disturbing their fallen comrades’ bodies, but even so it was difficult not to cry in despair at the sheer number they had lost. Anger twisted in Arthur’s chest, and he walked with renewed fervor.

He knew they were getting close to the enemy camp when they started coming upon green knights heading in the same direction. Some were good fighters even without weapons, and would dodge one blow, or maybe a few, but eventually they would be killed. The ground sloped upwards, and Arthur knew the camp was on the other side of the rise, it had to be, and he was going to make them pay for the way they killed his men, he was.

Nothing, however, could have prepared Arthur for what he saw on the other side of that rise.

The camp stood not more than fifty feet away. There were some small tents, but nothing like the large, structured layout of Arthur’s camp. Green knights stood facing them, faces set in stone. And there, at the front, was the woman. Holding a knife to Merlin’s throat.

Arthur stopped as if he’d walked into a wall. Merlin still stood stiffly, and his eyes still glowed. Perhaps not as brightly as they had before, though the distance could account for that. It had to be the distance.

And yet, the woman was holding a knife. No burning hands, no sizzling flesh.

“Your pet sorcerer’s spell is wearing off, Pendragon,” the woman called. “My, my, how I do like my weapons.”

Arthur’s mind worked furiously, even as he tried to remember how to breathe. His eyes flickered across the green knights. A few held swords. Others clenched and unclenched their fists, as if in anticipation.

He took a step forward.

“Arthur,” Leon muttered behind him. Arthur ignored him. Took another step forward. The sword in his hand suddenly felt ten times heavier.

“You said you needed him,” Arthur called tentatively. “You wanted him to destroy Camelot for you.”

“I would like that, yes. And yet if you attack us, he dies here and now.” The woman’s smile was cruel. “So I suppose we’ll have to wait for this little trick of his to fail, won’t we?”

Merlin stumbled then, just a bit, and the glow in his eyes faded a little more. He slumped somewhat now, no longer stiff, and soon the woman would have to hold him up herself if he didn’t collapse completely. The green knights shifted behind her.

Arthur kept moving forward, slowly, step by step, strategizing. They let him come. When he was ten feet away some of the green knights stepped forward, and he stopped.

The woman smirked. Arthur’s gut twisted in anger.

Was she bluffing? She needed Merlin alive, needed him to see Arthur killed. She herself didn’t have the power to raze Camelot to the ground.

Arthur wondered whether the knights would know immediately when Merlin’s hold on their magic failed completely, whether they would feel it or would have to try something to test it. But something had been nagging at him from the moment he had seen the camp. According to Merlin, there were relatively few truly powerful sorcerers, and controlling the movements of dozens of people at once counted as powerful, as far as Arthur knew. And yet, here was a whole army of them, men and women who had killed scores without even breaking a sweat.

Arthur studied the woman carefully for several moments. He studied the knights. He didn’t see it immediately, but then finally he understood, suddenly very grateful for Merlin’s enthusiasm in sharing everything he knew about magic.

First things first. He needed Merlin away from the woman, and that meant taking a chance, calling her bluff. Unless she’d been lying to him the entire time, she really did want to kill Arthur first.

The only way forward was to gamble with Merlin’s life.

Merlin’s head tilted forward, as if he was falling asleep. The glow in his eyes faded but was not yet gone. Arthur was running out of time.

“What is your plan now, oh king?” the woman mocked. “You cannot stop me.” 

“No,” Arthur agreed. “Not once the spell wears off.”

The woman pressed the knife more forcefully against Merlin’s throat. A thin trickle of blood appeared on his neck. “You attack, he dies.”

Arthur swallowed. Listened to his instincts.

“No,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “He doesn’t.”

Arthur lunged. Time seemed to slow. Shock crossed the woman’s face, but she didn’t move immediately. A bolt of dread shot through Arthur as she stood there, terrified that he had miscalculated, that she was about to slide the knife across Merlin’s throat. And then she threw Merlin aside just as the glow faded from his eyes entirely, just as Arthur reached her, and before she could so much as point her dagger at him he had torn the chain from around her neck. A glowing green stone came with it, and in one smooth movement Arthur had slammed it to the ground and plunged his sword through it.

The stone exploded. Green light streamed out, blinding, before fading suddenly, leaving only faded pieces of broken emerald scattered on the ground.

Arthur looked up.

And found, to his relief, that he had been right.

The green knights waved their arms at Arthur’s knights, with no effect. Many of them fiddled with their rings, as if that would fix the problem, but Arthur had destroyed the source of their power. Slowly understanding rippled through both sides, and Camelot’s knights cheered.

“You!” the woman shrieked, pointing her knife at Arthur. “You’ll pay for this!”

And then the fight broke out. Arthur’s knights charged the green knights, who rushed to pick up the few swords they’d bothered to bring. The woman attacked Arthur with her knife, beating him back with her fierceness. But a sword had better reach, and Arthur had been training since birth, and it wasn’t long before the woman was dead.

Arthur looked around. Camelot was winning this time around. The green knights weren’t bad fighters, but they were overwhelmed by relentlessness of the Camelot soldiers. The ones who ran were captured and restrained, and soon they would all be apprehended or dead.

And then his eyes fell on Merlin.

He lay just where he’d fallen, unconscious. Arthur dove towards him.

“Merlin?” he asked, shaking him. The man was far too still for Arthur’s liking. He felt for a pulse, fingers shaking slightly. It was there. Faint and weak, but there.

“Merlin, you idiot,” Arthur muttered. “What have I told you about over-exerting yourself?”

Arthur hadn’t been expecting an answer, so when Merlin spoke, Arthur jerked suddenly, his knee twinging painfully.

“Only… way. Had to… save you.”

“Merlin!”

Merlin’s eyes flickered open slowly, but they seemed glazed over and unfocused. Merlin blinked a few times before finding Arthur’s face, but he still seemed to be looking at something distant.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur asked.

“Did it work?”

Arthur looked around. The green knights had nearly all been slain or restrained, and as he watched Elyan and Percival chased down the last man. He looked back at Merlin and smiled. “It worked.”

A small smile flickered across Merlin’s face, but it was pained. Arthur frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Just… over-exerted myself,” Merlin muttered, closing his eyes. “Don’t get attacked in the next few days, okay? I’m going to sleep for a week.”

“I’ll try not to,” Arthur promised, his voice a whisper, but Merlin was already out. Arthur swallowed painfully and tried to blink away the tears. Had anyone asked him then whether they were tears of relief for Merlin’s life, or of despair for all the things he had seen today, he honestly would not have been able to say.

“Sire.”

Arthur took a deep breath to try and compose himself before looking up. Leon stood over them.

“Yes?”

“All the green knights have been killed or restrained. We’ll take the prisoners back to Camelot to await trial?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes. And collect their rings, would you? Merlin can have a look at them once he wakes up, the lazy sod.” He nudged Merlin lightly, but the man was truly out cold.

“Is he all right?” Leon asked quietly.

“He will be,” Arthur replied. He felt weary, and shaky, watching his men begin marching their prisoners back to the camp. Sorrow welled in his chest for their fellow soldiers who had died in such a gruesome fashion, who had died fighting for him, and Arthur knew that sleep would not come easy again for a long while. His own nightmares would be full of the battle, full of the image of Merlin with a knife sliding across his throat, of Arthur effectively killing him with his failed deductions. _It didn’t happen,_ he reminded himself. _He’s still alive._

Even after all this, after the carnage and the terror, he still had Merlin. And Merlin would be okay. And in this moment, that was enough.


End file.
